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A tear escaped
My eye
Shooked desire
To be alive
Found myself
On road
To justify
Why am I alive?
Still breathing
My believe
To smile
Horrendous play
Of life
Snatched away
My right
To be desired
And shine
Even in
Midst of
Fallen cry
A tear escaped
My tainted eye
At once you feel it! Stop! Perform an about turn
Something behind you! Into your back its eyes burn
You shiver and shake; rub the hairs on your arms
No-one there but the goose bumps; the sweat on your palms

Carry on walking. Swift; humming out loud
Desperate now to find yourself deep in a crowd
You are sure you can hear it. A breath. A refrain
Who is it? Who follows you home once again

It has happened before. In fact quite a few nights
A shadow appears in the glow of streetlights
It is gone by the time you shuffle up; when you dare
Where’d it go? Did I see it? Was it ever even there?

Put it down to exhaustion. A trick of your mind
The tiredness. The *****. The crap daily grind
The work. Family; stress. It is driving you mad
Makes you see things not there. You’re so ****** sad

We all have our demons. Horrors; creatures run wild
Dreamed up monsters we’ve nurtured since we were a child
But monsters don’t exist here. Bold; out in real life
They are fantasies! Just stories. Imaginations run rife

Silly idiot. You’re stupid; get a sodding grip
And you laugh at your crazy as you feel yourself trip
Something was there! It got you! Hear a grunt or a bark
It drags you kicking and screaming deep into the dark

©pofacedpoetry (Billy Reynard-Bowness 2018 – All rights reserved)
We've all got them....but are they real or imagined?
Hollie Wilson Feb 2018
What do we really have in this world?

Apart from the handwritten letters,
the dusty polaroids capturing
memorable days long gone,
and out battle scars.

We have nothing much at all.

Because it all gets snatched away too soon.
The body snatcher crawls from the bowels of disaster.
With blunt claws and cracked nails,
he flays the space,
grabbing bodies for the capture.

His home but a place to rest, to close his mind
and slowly peel the layers of dress,
where scars of bodies, picked his flesh.
Attempts so desperate, to remain un-snatched.

The body snatcher dreams of meat.
Meat so rancid, meat so sweet.
Some he sells, some he eats.
He names it snatched cuisine.

The sack he lumbers over shoulder,
resembles a black hole,
Those who enter, learn here after
that death lives stitched in wool,
Those once bagged, often gag
choking on the stench of others.

The body snatcher crawls from the bowels of disaster
A shadowy, feared, malicious captor
I was reading a story about the invasion of the body-snatchers, however I imagine a real body snatcher as something from the underworld with a ***** job to do.
Esther Feb 2016
My edges got snatched
And they never came back
While I was getting those tracks
They got detached

There's this empty space
At the side of my face
I feel ashamed
They were even tamed

Sick of wearing headbands
Just to cover those strands
Hoping they'll return
I'm getting so concerned

Everyday I get fried
I want to hide
They say my hairline
Looks like frankenstein

I go home crying
I keep on trying
To grow them out
Without a doubt

Next thing you know
They start to grow
I then show them off
And they start to cough

— The End —